


5 Times Atton Knows He's In Trouble

by violasarecool



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Multi, Poly triad, except for bao-dur's random disappearance at the end of the game lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: atton has seen enough trouble in his life that he can spot it coming a mile away. somehow, this doesn't stop him crashing into it head-on.a progression of atton, bao-dur, & the exile's relationship through the game





	5 Times Atton Knows He's In Trouble

The first time Atton knows he's in trouble, there's a man wearing only underwear walking into the room that serves as his prison.

 _You're seeing things_ , he told himself. Clearly he was getting dizzy from hunger and dehydration, and his brain was making up the image of a muscular, half-naked man to distract him from his impending death. He elbowed the force cage, but the pain was searing, and the apparition didn't disappear.

The man walked closer.

Atton's mouth said: "Nice outfit—what, you miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?"

His brain said: _Are you an angel?_

The man looked down at himself as if just remembering his clothing predicament, lean muscle shifting as he crossed his arms across his broad chest with a chuckle. He looked up at Atton, smiling uncertainly. "Why, should I leave you here while I go find clothing?"

"Oh no you don't," Atton said, "I want out of this place _yesterday."_

Later, it occurs to him that the man, Zurth, was prepared to let him out of the force cage and help him escape without even knowing why he was caged in the first place. _Idiot,_ he thought. _But who's the idiot for following him?_

* * *

The second time Atton knows he's in trouble, he's standing in a force cage—again, why does this always happen?—only this time with Kreia; and Bao-Dur, still out cold. That was trouble in itself: the strange seeping cold when Bao-Dur was knocked out in the crash, and even when he tried to drown it out counting pazaak cards in his head, there was an emptiness that would only begin to thaw when Bao-Dur woke some time later. It reminded him of darker times, and he heard faint screams in the back of his mind, echoes of Jedi long gone.

But maybe that was just because of Kreia.

"You surprise me," she said, as his vision cleared, the memories she had brought back fading already. "I could not feel it before. Your feelings are a powerful shield indeed."

Atton fought down a wave of nausea, weakly throwing up images of couplings and control panels in his mind as if it would protect him any better from a second attack. _1, 2, the notched one in the back, 4, 5..._

"Do not worry, 'Atton'," she said, inflecting his name with so much scorn, "if he is a Jedi, he will forgive. And if he is not, he will not care."

Panic spiked through him, adrenaline pushing through his exhaustion. "You can't tell him." He forced himself to meet her uncaring gaze, swallowed back his pride. "Please—I'm asking you. I don't want him to—"

"Think less of you?" Kreia said, and Atton looked down, focusing on the grimy floor rather than meet her eyes a second longer. "I hardly think that's possible. Still, there is no shame in what you ask." _Really?_ That... wasn't the answer he was expecting. But Kreia was still speaking. _Boy, does she ever love to talk._ "We all wage war with the past. And it leaves its scars. I will not speak of yours, Atton, but there is a price for such things."

"What?" His head jerked up, eyes taking in her posture, angled just slightly forward. Purposeful. "What price?"

She fixed him with a distasteful look, but he didn't look away, only squared his shoulders against the blackmail he knew was coming. "There are those who wage war, and those who follow them. You are a crude thing, murderer, but you have your uses. You know how important this man we travel with is—even one such as you can feel it. You will serve him... until I release you."

"And if I refuse?" he spat, but he knew even as he spoke—

"You will not," Kreia said, smiling as if she knew he was just thinking that precise thought... and fuck, maybe she did.

He began counting power couplings in his head with greater ferocity, as much to drown out his own mind's frightened whispers— _Jedi again, dammit, not again, not now—_ as to protect himself from the perceived attack _. 15, 17, 18..._

"If you do," Kreia added, "then my silence will be broken. And then, Atton, you will be broken."

Atton stared at her grimly. _Just you try,_ part of him said. But in the back of his mind, the thought smarting like his aching limbs, he knew it was more promise than threat. And he had no doubt this was a promise Kreia would keep.

* * *

The third time he knows he's in trouble, he's pacing back and forth across the garage in the Ebon Hawk, anxiety bubbling in his gut like a slow boiling stew, his thoughts drowning in it. For all their planning and delegating, for all their attempts to keep him safe, Zurth was a prisoner on Goto's ship somewhere above Nar Shaddaa, while Atton was stuck down on their grounded ship, unable to do anything.

And it shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did—they _knew_ this could happen, for fuck's sake, they spent most of their time on Nar Shaddaa deliberately trying to provoke the Exchange into a confrontation. But now that they had it, he couldn't bring himself to enjoy that victory, to relax even for a second while he knew that Zurth was still in danger.

Having nothing to do made the wait a thousand times worse.

As Atton crossed the garage yet again, he kicked at the a crate irritably, clenching restless hands. Across the room, Bao-Dur looked up at the noise, eyebrows furrowed over tired eyes. "Atton, I'm trying to work here."

"Oh _good,_ you just keep fiddling with your robots while other people are up there risking their lives," Atton snapped.

Bao-Dur pressed his lips together, shooting Atton a displeased look. "And I suppose you think you're doing better, _selflessly_ wearing holes in the ship's floor?"

"Hey, I _tried_ to go with them. I mean, two people isn't much of a rescue party, gods know they could have used my help. But _no,_ I'm not good enough for their little elite squad."

"They had to be discreet, you know that," Bao-Dur said, reaching down for a pair of pliers.

"Oh, so I'm not discreet?" Atton demanded.

"Two," was Bao-Dur's only response, head bent over his work once more.

Atton wandered over, shoes scuffing the floor with each swipe of his feet. "What could Mira possibly know about Goto, anyway? No one knows _anything_ about him, that's his whole deal! And the _Miraluka?_ Seriously, do they even _want_ to save him?"

"Atton, you're not the only one who cares about him," Bao-Dur shot.

Panic shot through him, freezing him to the spot. "Woah there, no one said anything about _caring,_ "he forced out, attempting a dismissive casualness, "I just..." Bao-Dur glanced at him, his eyebrows creased with disbelief. "Don't you give me that look."

As Bao-Dur turned back to his work, Atton could have sworn he rolled his eyes. "Kreia didn't seem worried."

Atton snorted. "Well forgive me if I don't trust _her_ judgement."

"I might not trust her with _my_ life, but she cares about him," Bao-Dur said tightly.

"And that's enough for you?" Atton demanded. "The old woman isn't having a meltdown, so you can rest easy?"

"Who said anything about resting easy?" Bao-Dur said, meeting his gaze with a tired look.

Atton closed his mouth, aggression fading as he took in Bao-Dur's defensive posture, his clenched jaw, mouth pressed thin. Oh.  _Never could resist picking a fight, could I,_ he thought bitterly. After a moment, Bao-Dur looked away. He picked up a pair of tweezers, and bent back over his work bench, shoulders hunched. The clicks of metal on metal echoed in the silence.

Atton shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, brain searching frantically for something to say—some excuse, joke, some trivial complaint to take off the edge. He came up blank. "What are you working on, anyway?" Atton finally asked.

Bao-Dur didn't look up. "I'm trying to fix my remote's vocabulator, it's been acting up recently."

"Is _that_ why I haven't seen the little nuisance around, recently," Atton said. "Here I thought you'd finally gotten rid of it."

Bao-Dur gave a quiet huff, almost a laugh. "You're not getting rid of him that easily."

Encouraged, Atton took a few steps over, bridging the rest of the gap between them so he could see the workbench under the one spotlight in the dimly lit garage. Bao-Dur glanced up at him, mouth twisting up slightly in that half-smile that often greeted him. "You keep this place so dark," Atton blurted out, "how can you even see?"

"I only need the one light to do my work, here," Bao-Dur shrugged. "I turn on some of the others when I need to take a look at one of the bigger droids."

"Right." Atton watched as Bao-Dur replaced a panel on the remote's outer shell, replacing the screw that held it in place. He looked focused, calm, like when Zurth sat on the floor of the dormitories, meditating. Maybe this was something similar for him: something to occupy his mind, and in this case, his hands.

If Atton understood anything, it was the need for distractions.

As he watched, leaning over to see better in the dull light, he belatedly realized that he had drifted too close, their bodies barely an inch apart. As he was just noticing this, Bao-Dur reached across the workbench with his left arm, brushing against Atton's, and he jumped, the moment of contact electric in a way that had nothing to do with the light sparking off of Bao-Dur's arm just inches below where their arms touched— _for fuck's sake, get a grip._

"Sorry," Bao-Dur said, jerking his arm back, "did I shock you?"

"Uh, no," Atton said, heart pounding, and Bao-Dur's look turned curious. _Wait, shit, then why were you jumping around like an idiot—_  "I mean, yes?" And now Bao-Dur's eyebrows were raised, _nice cover up, genius_." I don't know, I've never been shocked by a _metal arm_ before," he said, panic making his words more bitter than he intended.

Luckily, Bao-Dur only chuckled. "I guess there's a first for everything. Don't worry, it's no more dangerous than a light shock from a control panel, unless you actually press your arm against the centre. Then you might have to soak your arm in bacta for a few hours—or days, if you're really unlucky."

"Oh, _great,"_ Atton muttered. He rubbed his arm roughly, trying to forget the sensation of warm skin against skin— _hells, what are you, a horny teenager?_

Then, the comm system crackled to life, and Atton suddenly remembered why he was in the garage in the first place. Luckily, it seemed everyone knew there was only one piece of information the other members of the crew needed to hear right now. "They have returned," came the Handmaid's voice, "he is safe."

Bao-Dur sighed. "Good," he murmured.

Atton didn't say anything, but he was sure the relief in the look Bao-Dur gave him a moment later was just as visible in his own face. He felt like he should have been embarrassed, but for once, he wasn't sure he cared.

* * *

The fourth time Atton knows he's in trouble, it's more of a confirmation than a warning, a signal light telling him he's approaching water when he's already up to his neck.

As it turns out, he can swim.

Most of the others had left now, and the ship was quiet. Atton passed T3 on his way back out the loading ramp; the little droid staunchly refused to come, unwilling to tangle its wheels in the unruly jungle undergrowth. G0T0 and Mical were also somewhere on the ship, though they seemed to be keeping out of Atton's way for now, and Atton wasn't complaining about _that._ Mira had tried to coax him into a pazaak game, but he was determined to have the repairs finished as soon as possible.

He stopped by the ship's engines, surveying the damage. Despite Kreia's warning to take his time, it looked like Atton was genuinely going to need quite some time to get the ship running again. He'd contacted the group twice since they left, still keeping tabs on the battle overhead, but now that he was actually getting a better look at the damage, it wasn't looking good. Though he'd never tell T3 as much, he'd probably need its help to finish within a decent time frame.

He stood up from a crouch, wiping greasy fingers on his pants. _Might as well find the damn droid now,_ he thought, feet automatically taking him back towards—

A bright flash, then complete blackness. Screams echoing as if from hundreds of miles away. He opened his eyes.

Deafening noise, clashes of lightsabers and blasts bouncing off them. Scorching armour, flesh, burning flesh searing his nostrils, _I'll fight to the end, but will it ever end_. Pistol in hand—no, lightsaber, long, blue, light in his hand, slicing through bodies, up, down, parry blaster fire, _how can they still think theirs is the right path?_ Blue light reflected in a visor—no, a screen. Double and triple checking the digits scrolling down by the light of his arm, eyes flicker to flickering light, explosions. Weapons pass hands, _quickly, those shields won't hold, nothing will, but maybe, maybe._

A figure far in the distance—just feet away—not 10 metres off. Saber extinguished, _what is she doing—_

Pain shot down his neck and back, and Atton became aware of the ground pressed against his side, grass tickling his face, a rock pressed sharp into his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find the ship in front of him, gently smoking. He sat up, scanning the area warily, but there was no one else to be found.

He pushed himself upright, a vague sense of unease tugging at the back of his mind, making it difficult to remember what he was doing, where he was. _Dxun,_ he thought after a moment, _the ship crashed, you need to fix it. Dxun, not Malachor._ Somehow he managed to beat away the fog clouding his mind long enough to re-enter the ship, find T3, convince it to help with repairs. All the while there was a sour taste at the back of his mouth that a swallow of jawa juice did nothing to chase, a fuzziness to his thoughts that couldn't be drowned out even by the methodical work.

He was in the cockpit when the others returned; voices echoed across the ship, and when he passed Kreia in the main hold, she only gave him a cold, satisfied glance. Moments later, he found Zurth and Bao-Dur sitting on the floor of the garage, doors closed, HK nowhere to be seen. They looked up as he entered, Zurth giving him a tired smile, Bao-Dur a nod of his head.

"I'm leaving on a shuttle for Iziz soon," Zurth said.

"Right," Atton said. He glanced behind him out into the hall, almost tempted to leave. Then, _what the hell,_ he took a few steps further in, and the door closed. "I'm assuming that was your fault," he said, unable to summon the energy for any kind of leadin, "the, you know." Vision? Force vision? He didn't know where to begin with that.

"You saw it too," Zurth said, not a question, his expression quietly resigned as if he knew the answer by heart.

"Yeah."

Atton stood there a moment, flight instincts pressing him to leave now, while he could, before another revelation tore down that last flimsy panel holding him together. He wasn't even sure what was holding him now, except there was a certain morbid curiosity prickling at him, holding him back, holding him in place. _Isn't this the kind of Jedi shit you should be learning?_ his brain offered, _isn't it your responsability to find out?_ The blue lightsaber in the vision, what he now recognized as Zurth's pained breaths. Bao-Dur's glowing arm.

He glanced towards the arm in question, then sighed. _This is what you get for following a Jedi,_ he thought, sliding down the wall a reasonable distance from the blue sparks around Bao-Dur's metal arm.

"So, was that what you guys saw? In the war?" Atton asked, casually as he could, flashes of explosives still imprinted on his vision. "Because I sure as hell never used a lightsaber."

Zurth nodded. "Yeah. Like, a flashback, but..."

"From different points of view," Bao-Dur said. "All of ours."

Bao-Dur sounded almost rattled, unsettled, uncomfortable, pained— _okay,_ Atton rubbed a shakey arm down his neck, _add 3, take 2, add 6, okay._ He cleared his throat. "Is that... is it a Force vision thing? Your standard Jedi shit?"

"I don't think so," Zurth said. "Or, kind of?" His face crinkled, brows drawing low as he stared at the floor; Atton's heartbeat quickened with the movement, worry spiking cold in his chest.

Beside him, Bao-Dur shifted slightly, his right arm pressed against Zurth's. It seemed to give him some comfort, and Atton swallowed and looked away from the display of comfortable familiarity; pressed himself back against the metal wall as if its cool surface would take away that feeling of want, the reckless desire for something he couldn't depend on. One more thing to lose.

Zurth shifted, the sound clear in the empty room. "I think it's from a, uh... Force bond," Zurth said, his voice quiet, wavering slightly on the last two words.

"Kreia mentioned that before, didn't she," Atton commented. He stared forcefully at the floor, hoping that somehow it would pick up on the heat of his gaze and sink down, down into the bowels of the ship before Zurth could tell him anything. Before something slipped off his tongue that he couldn't take back.

But it didn't, and his mouth kept going, unbidden. "So what, if you die, now we die too?"

"Oh, no," Zurth said, "I don't think it's like that."

"Well _that's_ a relief," Atton said dryly.

He could feel it now, on the silence, the answer in Zurth's mind, that unspoken thing rearing into the light, desperately trying to force itself out of Zurth's half-open mouth. Atton lifted his head, and Zurth met his eyes uncertainly; Atton could feel Bao-Dur watching as well, the three of them watching each other, listening, open to each other's thoughts.

Feeling.

And then, he felt what Zurth was going to say even as he began to speak.

"Force bonds are made between people with strong emotional bonds. When they... care, about each other."

Zurth's gaze was gentle, now, horribly, painfully so, and Atton dropped his eyes to the floor as if burned by their intensity. In the silence that followed, the ship shuddered, its incessant creaks underscoring the lack of words. Atton gave a shaky laugh. "I thought Jedi didn't form _emotional attachments."_

"I don't think that's ever really been true," Zurth said softly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Atton saw Bao-Dur turn his head, saw Zurth's eyes flicker to meet his, exchanging a silent something that Atton could only partially discern, could only, only—

"Atton."

His heart was beating faster, thudding in his ears, louder even than his frantic mantra of numbers and parts and cards; his carefully placed cards swept away in an instant, folding like flimsy with only a gentle touch.

"Hey." Bao-Dur's arm on his, the metal one, a cool, solid weight. Zurth beside him now, beside them both. A small circle.

Atton took a measured breath. "Hey."

He looked up.

They were both watching him now; eyes narrowed in concern, bodies angled forward, stances that shifted as his eyes met theirs in turn, a smile quick to Zurth's face, if slower to Bao-Dur's. Affection bleeding from creased eyes and upturned lips. How had he missed it for so long? The feeling of oneness, _together,_ solid as the ship's floor beneath them and only them, holding him steady. His hand moved almost involuntarily for Bao-Dur's, and Bao-Dur's moved to meet his, hand enveloping his even as Zurth moved to do the same from his other side. His hands were trembling, or maybe Zurth's were, pulse still stuttering through his anxious body, but it felt _right,_ despite his nerves, despite his protesting brain screaming at the simple contact. For the first time in his life, it felt like _belonging._

Something he could depend on.

There was a hiss from across the room as the door opened, and Atton started, Zurth and Bao-Dur's heads turning as they were greeted with a series of chirps and whistles from T3. Zurth nodded.

"Time to go?" Atton asked.

"Yeah." Zurth sighed, and stood up, the other two following suit.

"Don't get yourself kidnapped this time," Bao-Dur said, only half joking.

"I'll be fine," Zurth promised, with a confidence that almost made Atton believe him.

As if that man didn't know trouble followed him wherever he went. Still, as Zurth followed T3 and Canderous back to the Mandalorian camp, Atton could feel him in the back of his mind, a bright, reassuring reminder that, trouble or not, he was still there.

* * *

The last time, they're on the Hawk, a planet full of ghosts and strange power and a bomb they created ready to explode beneath them. They're tired, and bruised, and so, so tired, but they're together again, and alive, and Atton is never letting them out of his sight again.

"I need to find Revan," Zurth said, robes still trailing dust from Malachor's barren surface, sleeves stained with Kreia's blood. "She's gone beyond the outer rim, searching for something important, and I... I have to help her. Follow her." He swallowed, breathing still uneven. "It'll be long, and difficult. I don't know what I'll find out there." His face was set, as if expecting they'd abandon him at any moment. Alone at Malachor once more. "I might never come back."

"Then I guess we're never coming back," Atton said simply, Bao-Dur nodding his agreement, and the tired smile Zurth gave them warmed Atton through his aching limbs.

Atton and Zurth began preparing for hyperspace, Bao-Dur leaning back against the wall of the cockpit, watching them work. After a minute or so, Atton glanced at Zurth for confirmation before flipping a lever forward, sending them into hyperspace. "Goodbye, Malachor," Atton said, collapsing back in his seat with a relieved sigh.

"Hello, days of hyperspace travel," Bao-Dur said dryly, but when Atton tipped his head towards him, Bao-Dur's face was soft with contentment.

"And with such terrible company," Atton replied.

The light in the cockpit was now a cool blue, rippling across their faces like sunlight bouncing across waves. Bao-Dur glanced at Atton, then Zurth, the wavering shadows of his face highlighting his lowered brow as he made a low humming noise.

Zurth asked just as Atton thought to do the same. "What?"

"I was just thinking... I never thought I'd be _eloping,_ " Bao-Dur said with a teasing grin.

"Is _that_ what we're doing," Atton said dryly, glancing at Zurth, who bit back a smile.

"Well, running away without telling the others? Never coming back?" Bao-Dur's voice softened. "Spending the rest of our lives together?"

"People come back after they elope," Atton scoffed, but the look in Bao-Dur's eyes was so earnest, his breath caught in his throat. _Spending the rest of our lives together,_ his brain echoed, and the wave of _want_ that caught him was enough to force his gaze down, heart racing. He looked hesitantly at Zurth, who had yet to speak, watched as his eyes flickered from Bao-Dur's to his, mouth slightly open. _With this man,_ he thought; he glanced at Bao-dur— _these men._ "I could live with that," Atton breathed.

Zurth's lips tugged up into a half smile, gave a huff of air like the beginnings of laughter. "Yeah," he said, eyes crinkling as he looked at Atton, and Atton's stomach twisted under the force of pure adoration in that look. "Nothing would make me happier."

The last time Atton knows he's in trouble, there are two people looking at him like he's their entire universe, and maybe he isn't in trouble after all.

**Author's Note:**

> just checked my notes, and apparently i started this fic almost a year and a half ago—about half a year after i started playing kotor 2! cant believe its only been 2 years since i discovered these games :')


End file.
